


shadows under streetlights

by atlantisairlock



Category: Military Wives (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Casual Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Infidelity, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: All the wives in Flitcroft know that when their servicepeople are on tour, and you’re lonely and just need a warm body in the same bed for one night, Lisa’s the one to call on.Kate doesn't approve of the whole business, until she does.
Relationships: Kate Barkley/Lisa Lawson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	shadows under streetlights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newyorksnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorksnow/gifts), [elizabthboland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabthboland/gifts), [ensorcel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/gifts).



> this is a straight 8k of infidelity fic i actually do not deserve rights. 
> 
> there is [amazing fanart](https://twitter.com/K4TEWINSLET/status/1324557312607068168) for this fic done by my pal fabri who has officially made my life.
> 
> title from 'broken parts' by mokita.

For all the flaws Kate has - and she’s gracious enough to admit there are many - she’s definitely not stupid, and she _knows_ the biggest secret that circulates around the women within the garrison. The one all the wives in Flitcroft know, even though it’s kept under lock and key - that when their servicepeople are on tour, and you’re lonely and just need a warm body in the same bed for one night, that Lisa’s the one to call on.

She doesn’t know exactly how long it’s been going on, really. She’s never been the kind to pry, especially not in matters like this. God knows she doesn’t _approve,_ obviously, but a distraction is a distraction - and with all the violence and tragedy they’re surrounded by, she recognises it would be awful to blow it up into a scandal and ruin more lives.

She mostly just… turns a blind eye for the most part. Lisa’s just another wife in the garrison working the counter at the convenience store and doing… whatever else she does in her own time. Kate doesn’t have a reason to talk to her, so she doesn’t.

Then Jamie dies, Red Lawson is appointed RSM, Richard goes back on tour, and everything changes.

Kate wishes she could be surprised by Lisa’s extremely cavalier attitude towards their efforts to get the wives to bond but she’s really not. It’s obvious from the get-go that she doesn’t really want to lead them, still sees herself as just another one of them - Kate watches her move around the coffee morning chatting and laughing, exchanging more heated gazes with a couple of them.

She likes to think she has manners, so she doesn’t roll her eyes. It’s a struggle, though.

She focuses on brainstorming ideas, steadfastly pushing past the awkwardness and Lisa’s clear dislike - whether of her disruption of the coffee morning or because Kate’s blatantly usurping her leadership she isn’t sure, and honestly, she doesn’t really care. _Someone_ here needs to follow orders from the top brass, bring the women together. Give them something to _do._

Their ideas aren’t… great. Kate won’t pretend she doesn’t wince a little when Maz suggests a five-a-side. But she can work with what they want, surely. She can.

Sarah raises a tentative hand, a little uncertain. “What about singing?”

“Singing?” Kate repeats, and an idea begins to take shape.

The choir does not get off to a good start.

Recruitment numbers are low, to begin with. None of the wives are professionally trained and they definitely don’t sound it. It’s painfully obvious that some of them come for their first practice only because of Lisa’s promise of a drink afterwards.

And Lisa - Jesus, Kate could strangle her sometimes, for her lack of decorum, her unwillingness to treat the whole thing with any sort of seriousness, her insistence on crossing swords with Kate every step of the way. “If you think singing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ with a pole up your arse is what the women need, then you’re more out of touch than I thought.”

“Oh, and you think you know - “

“Yeah, I think I’ve actually got a pretty decent pulse on what the women _need,_ thank you,” Lisa interrupts. Kate’s jaw clicks as she swallows her annoyance and disapproval down. She keeps her voice low, but firm regardless. “If _you_ think a couple fumbles in bed every so often is enough to give them something to focus on without finding themselves at the bottom of a bottle, then I’m not the only fool here.”

Lisa’s eyes flare, but she doesn’t turn away. Kate softens her tone and tries to be more neutral about it. “You may not need the choir, Lisa, but some of them do.”

The silence doesn’t stretch as long as Kate expects it to before Lisa snorts and gives her a jerky nod. “Fine. But don’t think I’m going to be taking your orders on how to run it, Kate. This is still my job.”

 _Then act like it,_ Kate wants to snipe back, but Lisa’s already turning on her heel and she’s gone.

The good news is that Lisa actually does start acting like a leader; the bad news is that it’s not the kind of direction Kate thinks the choir needs. Kate stares at the simple song sheets Lisa hands out and suppresses a deep sigh - she wonders if she needs to sit Lisa down and really explain to her what a _choir_ actually means.

The practice is not good. The women struggle through the song, never really coming together with any sort of cohesiveness. It probably doesn’t help that she spends more of the afternoon arguing with Lisa over style and structure than leading the wives. Lisa’s got a storm cloud practically hanging over her head when she packs her keyboard up at the end of it. “I know you think everyone needs to take your orders, but it actually _was_ me that was assigned to lead them, Kate. And I am.”

“Just shoving them a piece of paper with song lyrics isn’t _leading_ anything, least of all a proper choir - “

“We’re not a ‘proper choir’! Christ’s sake, we’re not going in for the bloody Brandenburg! Why can’t things ever just be _fun_ with you?”

Kate has a few choice words she could say to that, then decides she doesn’t want to bother. “See you tomorrow, Lisa,” she says through gritted teeth. “Maybe figure out how to take one thing in your life seriously before then.”

Lisa mutters something that could be ‘piss off’. Kate thinks she echoes the sentiment.

She’s not supposed to see Lisa until their next practice, doesn’t want to in any case, but Kate finds Frankie more than a little drunk outside her house that night and that throws a bit of a spanner into the works. She helps Frankie into her living room, and when Lisa doesn’t pick up after three calls, eases her onto the couch so she can lie down and sleep it off.

Two more texts to Lisa go unread. Kate wonders what the hell she could be so busy with this late at night, then realises she can probably guess. Well. Nothing to do about that but to wait and hope she finishes up before it becomes ridiculous o’clock.

She’s got a big piece of her mind to give Lisa when she finally responds almost an hour later and lets her know she’s coming over; the only reason she doesn’t shout is because Frankie’s still in the house. Lisa looks stressed and guilty, steps faltering as she comes into the living room and spots Frankie passed out on the couch. Kate watches her too and sighs. “Maybe it’d be best to just let her sleep it off here.”

“Right,” Lisa says, passing a hand over her eyes. “Right, yeah. Thanks. Sorry. Thank you, Kate.” It sounds genuine, though a little grating, which makes Kate’s hackles rise. “I’ve been texting you for the past hour. I called you. Five times.”

“I know. Sorry, I was - caught up in something.”

 _“Something,”_ Kate drawls, unimpressed. Lisa stops short where she’s walking into Kate’s front hallway, narrowing her eyes. “If you’ve got something to say to me, just say it.”

Kate shrugs, meeting Lisa’s gaze square in the eye. “Do what you want, Lisa. I just think it’s bad form when you let your daughter get herself into this state because you’re too busy having a one-night-stand.” She glances back in the direction of the living room. “And I wish I could say I was surprised. But they do say that children tend to drink when they see their parents do the same thing.”

Lisa goes still, her jaw pulled tight, a dangerous, angry flicker in her eyes. “For your information, I didn’t hear your calls because I was on my laptop at home with my headphones on. Listening to videos that would help me with the _choir.”_ She steps closer to Kate, so close that Kate can see the green of her eyes and her curled lip. “And don’t you dare drag Frankie into this when it’s me you have a problem with. You and your holier-than-thou Prohibition-era Mother Theresa act can shove off. Yeah, the rest of us drink - I drink, but guess what, Kate, at least it helps us to smile and laugh and not act like we’ve got a stick - fuck, no, a complete _forest_ up our arseholes, unlike you. Jesus, why can’t you ever just _relax?”_

She’s breathing heavily by the time she’s done, snarling her last line loud enough to make Kate flinch. They’re standing still in the hallway, Kate having to look up just a little to meet Lisa’s eyes; electricity seems to buzz and crackle in the space around them. A string pulled tight, ready to snap -

Kate’s not sure who makes the first move, only that seconds later she’s up against the wall with Lisa’s mouth over hers, Lisa’s hands pinning her wrists above her head. It’s intense but not aggressive, give and take; Lisa licks into her mouth and Kate feels her grin when Kate lets out a breathless moan, something that rips its way out of her from her darkest depths. She nips at Kate’s lower lip when she eases off the kiss, gentle, almost sweet. “Just _relax,”_ she repeats; her pupils are dilated now, tracking Kate’s every expression as she brings one hand down from where she’s got them wrapped around Kate’s wrists. Sliding lower, slipping past her waistband. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

Kate doesn’t say no, can’t, doesn’t want to, finds herself willingly opening her legs a little wider for Lisa’s hand between them - Lisa touches her, kisses her again; it’s filthy and wet and has Kate arching her hips against her. She gasps into Lisa’s mouth, unable to stop herself. The rational part of her mind is screaming now, about the fact that she’s got a teenager sleeping just metres away and her husband’s in Afghanistan and she’s getting fucked in her front hallway and practically moaning for it, needy and desperate -

“Are you begging?” She hears Lisa murmur, tinged with amusement, and Kate’s head swims back into focus just enough to realise she’s panting _please, please_ over and over again, nonsensical. “God, you _really_ needed this, didn’t you? Come on, Kate. Just let go. Just let yourself feel good.”

And she does, god, she really does - legs trembling when she reaches her climax, shivering all over. It’s so good she’s still a little dazed when Lisa gently withdraws and releases her, taking a step back to give Kate some breathing space. She’s smirking at Kate while she casually brings her hand to her mouth, tongue curling around her still-wet fingers, and that sight shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “Thanks for taking care of Frankie,” she says huskily. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She puts her coat back on, exits breezily, leaving Kate to her shock and the afterglow. It’s a good five minutes before she can get her legs in gear again, even longer before she manages to turn off all the lights, lock up, and stagger up to bed, and she doesn’t sleep at all that night.

They don’t talk about it the next day. Kate drives both Frankie and herself down to practice and she sees Lisa giving Frankie a stern talk but she just greets Kate with a nod and they start to get down to business.

How Kate gets through the practice she’ll never know. Her glance keeps darting over to Lisa, and every time she feels like verbally disagreeing with Lisa over something choir-related she ends up thinking of the night before and faltering. It hasn’t seemed to faze Lisa at all, and Kate knows that’s probably because this is what she _does,_ she’s used to it, but still - Kate’s _never_ been one of the women in the garrison who sought Lisa out when they needed a night in her bed and it’s beyond her how Lisa isn’t at all affected by what happened.

Lisa shuttles Frankie home right after practice, and then the next day they all end up on a very cold and rainy hike so she doesn’t get a chance to speak to Lisa until after - _after_ the incredible moment under the bridge. Lisa meets her eyes when Jess starts to sing and everyone falls silent; Kate’s similarly awed by Jess’ voice and reels with what it could mean for the choir, but looking at Lisa just makes her face go hot again.

Lisa suggests a performance, while they walk back to the coach; Kate’s mind is already running over all the pros and cons, all their options, everything that’d need to happen for that to be possible. But at the very forefront of it all - she swallows, throat dry, trying to keep her voice even. “Do you want to come over and discuss it?”

“Sure, that’s a good idea,” Lisa says jauntily, like she can’t see Kate’s flushed face, like she can’t tell what Kate’s really asking.

Only it turns out she _actually_ can’t tell what Kate’s asking. Kate shuts the door behind them when she gets home, waits until Lisa’s hung her coat up and settled into the living room sighing about how welcome the warmth of the house is, then sits down beside her with her arms folded. “We need to talk about what happened on Friday.”

“What, with Frankie? It won’t happen again. If only because I’ve cut her allowance for two weeks.”

Kate shoots her a withering look of disbelief. “Not about _Frankie._ About…” Her voice dies; she doesn’t know how to say it, can feel the embarrassment and uncertainty stoppering her words. Lisa raises her eyebrows in response. “It was just stress relief, Kate. You looked like you needed it. You don’t need to make a bigger deal of it than it was.”

“I’m _married!”_

“We’re all married,” Lisa shrugs. “Our husbands - _and_ wives - are halfway around the world fighting a war that isn’t our own, usually against a bunch of people who don’t want to be fighting it any more than we do. Away for months on end more often than not. We all have needs. You have needs. It was just one night. And it won’t happen again if you don’t want it to. Okay?”

It slips out before she can stop herself. “I do want it to.”

Lisa’s eyebrows go higher; a smile plays across her face. Kate wants to take it back but it’s too late - Lisa’s already inching closer, one hand coming to rest on her knee, sliding further up her thigh. “Yeah?”

 _No,_ the sensible, logical part of Kate’s brain shrieks, _you have a husband, you love him, this is a horrible idea._ Every other part soundly quashes that little voice, and Kate finds herself leaning further into Lisa’s touch, mouth moving without her express permission. “Yes,” and Lisa’s grinning wide, whispering “we can arrange that too”, and rolling her over into the couch to kiss her.

She starts something she doesn’t know how to stop.

Lisa keeps coming over. Not every night - she wants to spend time with Frankie too, and Kate knows well enough she’s not the only person who Lisa goes to bed with - but enough of them that she knows she won’t be able to just call them _mistakes_ if she ever comes clean to Richard.

She doesn’t know if she ever will. She doesn’t know if she can. She should. Hell, if she knew better she would stop. She wouldn’t have let anything happen.

But she keeps calling, moments of weakness far too common in her empty, quiet house with reminders of Jamie everywhere she turns. She refuses to drink and she’s beginning to eye her bank balance and the rapidly filling airing closet with some concern. There aren’t that many other options available to her whenever she feels so hollow she might throw up.

The choir helps - something to focus on, something to work hard at doing, friends to surround herself with - but it still isn’t everything, and Kate knows it’s unrealistic to expect it to be. It’s definitely good, though. Standing in front of the other women, conducting and drilling and hearing the gradual improvements as they get closer to the date of their first performance… her smiles are more genuine on those afternoons.

Lisa’s getting even better on the keyboard too. She was good from the start - even Kate can admit that - but she’s smoother now, never misses a note. They’re getting better at working together. Kate’s not sure if it’s because time has helped them compromise with each other’s working styles or because they’re connecting on a personal level. It’s hard to spend so much time in Lisa’s presence and not like her better as a person - months ago, she’d never have imagined getting along with Lisa so well, especially not in bed, but here they are.

It’s just another ordinary afternoon at practice when Crooks storms in looking like someone’s just demoted him to Lance Corporal. Kate’s prepared for awful news, something unforgivable the choir’s done to tarnish the name of the garrison.

She’s _definitely_ not prepared for them to be invited to the Festival of Remembrance.

The women chatter excitedly about it when they leave practice later; Kate keeps her neutral, placid face on but can’t help but feel the stirrings of delight in her heart. It’s incredible, it’s an _honour,_ and to think their little choir has been _invited_ to sing - she brought the choir together at the beginning for the wives’ benefit, but to know that it could be bigger than that now is something she can barely wrap her head around.

She’s going to approach Lisa to discuss it, only to find her gone from the hall in the few moments she had her back turned. Frowning, Kate calls for her, heading out into the hallway and to the lobby when she receives no answer. She catches Dawn before all the others disperse. “Have you seen Lisa? Where’s she gone?”

“I thought I saw her go ‘round back,” Dawn replies; Kate thanks her and hurries off in the same direction. It takes her a minute before she spots Lisa leaning against one of the sheds with a lit cigarette to her lips. She can’t help her surprise when she approaches and Lisa lifts her head, greeting her with a small smile. “Hey.”

Kate inclines her head towards her cigarette and the lighter she’s idly flicking in one hand. “I didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“Occasionally. Don’t do it so often any more. Only when I’m really stressed. Don’t want to be more of a shitty influence on Frankie than I already am.” It’s not without humour but Kate does see a brief tightness in her smile before she reaches in her coat pocket and offers a battered pack to Kate. “Want one?”

“I don’t smoke. Never have. Never understood how anybody could, actually. It always smells awful; I can’t imagine how it tastes.” She pauses, shooting Lisa a curious look. “What are you stressed about?”

Lisa hums, smiling. “It’s not _that_ bad, Kate. Feels nice, you know - cooling. If you smoke menthols at least, I don’t smoke anything else.” She still won’t meet Kate’s eyes. “Worried about the Festival of Remembrance, I think. Jess said it was the big one, and she’s right. Don’t know if I’m ready for that. Or if the wives are.” She exhales, grey escaping from between her lips. “Are you?”

“I think we can be. We’ve been working hard. If the top brass sees something in us worthy of an invitation, I’d like to prove them right. I believe we can do it.”

Lisa nods slowly, thoughtful, and Kate can see her considering her words. She doesn’t reply, though, not exactly, just flicks her lighter again. “You sure you don’t want to try one?”

Kate snorts, more amused than anything. “I don’t really think I’m cut out for smoking a whole cigarette when I’ve never smoked a single one in the past few decades of my life.”

Lisa finally turns to look at her, locking their gazes, her smile turning darker and more mischievous. “You don’t need to smoke a whole stick to find out how it feels,” she murmurs, hooking a finger down Kate’s collar and pulling her closer. She takes a long inhale and opens her mouth against Kate’s, smoke swirling into Kate’s mouth and throat. “Now inhale,” she instructs quietly. “And breathe out. Can you feel it?”

She can - the light taste of tar on her tongue, something ice-cold in her throat and chest, and the feeling of Lisa’s lips lingering on her own. Kate exhales a breathless little sound, suddenly chasing more. Lisa eyes her with a sly grin. “Did that turn you on?”

“No,” Kate says defensively. Lisa’s grin doesn’t fade as she stubs her cigarette out and crushes it underheel. “Does that mean you’ll say no to my fingers inside you right now?”

Kate feels her breath catch in her throat, glancing frantically around them. “Lisa, we’re in _public.”_

“Barely,” says Lisa. “Nobody comes back here, and nobody can see us behind this shed. And it’s not like you even have to take your clothes off.” She drops a brief kiss on Kate’s lips, just enough for Kate to taste the nicotine again. “Call it a celebration for getting invited to sing at the Royal Albert Hall, how about that?”

She shouldn’t. They _really_ shouldn’t.

“Okay,” Kate says instead, to Lisa’s pleased, soft laugh as she backs Kate against the shed. “Okay. Yes.”

They start spending even more time together, quite a lot of it actually in a professional capacity. Now that they know they’ve got the Festival of Remembrance as a specific goal to work towards the wives seem to take the choir even more seriously than before, and it means more practices but also more work behind the scenes by Lisa’s side. They do good work together, selecting songs that will showcase a good vocal range and won’t be too much of an insurmountable challenge for the women to tackle. Sometimes, though, the hours drag later as they work, and more often than not Kate ends up on her back after their scores and song lyrics are left forgotten.

The day before their performance in town, their last practice before the real thing, she gets to their practice space to see Beatrice wearing a shirt that seems strangely familiar. Kate narrows her eyes and tries to figure out why on _earth_ it’s making her wonder when she comes closer and catches a hint of an even more familiar scent.

Oh.

She steps back, curses internally, wonders how she forgot that Lisa was sleeping with other women - a lot of other women - and wonders why her fists are suddenly clenching of their own accord, her jaw tight. She catches a glimpse of Lisa setting up her keyboard - Beatrice pauses by her and they exchange a few words; Lisa grins and winks at her and Kate feels a sudden wave of annoyance. If annoyance is the right word, even - the red-hot feeling that suddenly curls tight in her chest feels a bit stronger than that.

She thinks it might be jealousy and the thought makes her panic. There’s absolutely _no_ way she can be jealous; she refuses to allow it. What they have, what they’re doing, it’s nothing different from all the other wives Lisa is sleeping with. No strings attached. Just another way of letting off steam while the rest of their lives are filled with fear and worry. Anything more than that is… Kate doesn’t even want to think about it. It’s far too dangerous to dwell on.

It doesn’t stop her from cornering Lisa right after practice. “Come home with me,” she says, almost a demand today, and Lisa says yes, she always says yes - Kate kisses her the second they’re past the front door, rougher than usual, practically drags Lisa into bed and urges Lisa on, _harder, faster, more._

“Jesus, you’re stressed today,” Lisa observes after she makes Kate come twice in succession. “Kate, _relax._ What’s going on? Is it tomorrow’s performance?” She props herself up over Kate so they’re looking right at each other, and Kate’s gaze slides down to the swoop of her neck, her pale throat. She’s struck by the urge to pull Lisa down, seal her lips against the skin, add a little bit of teeth. Leave a mark, so whoever Lisa fucks in the next week knows she had Kate in her bed too.

“Everything’s fine,” she says instead, words a little thick. Lisa’s brows draw together in concern and Kate forces her voice back to normal. “I’m fine. Keep touching me. Please?”

“Okay,” Lisa says slowly, and Kate can’t help but feel touched, happy, that Lisa’s genuinely worried about her. It’s a sudden, quiet reminder that they’re friends now, or something like it.

At the back of her mind Kate knows this won’t last - the furtive hookups they have after practices, the nights they spend together - certainly not once Richard comes home. But she hopes, even after the benefits come to an end, that she will still have her friend.

She’s in a good mood after Lisa, after the night before, excited and determined when they all troop down to town and prepare for their very first public performance ever.

It’s evaporated, disappearing into the ether, even before the first chorus. Kate feels her heart sinking as every second passes - the sounds of vehicles and other people throwing the wives off their game, making them miss cues and stumble. It’s awful, when they come to an end and the market goes silent, then fills with the sound of what are undoubtedly pity claps.

She feels like shit when they all gather together afterwards; she’d had such high hopes, and they all seem to have crumbled. She knows she ought to say something encouraging to the women anyway, but it just feels hard to find something when she’s so utterly crushed too.

Lisa steps in and saves the day. Reminds the women why they joined the choir and why it’s important and promises that it’ll be better the next time around, because they’ll work to make it better. Kate listens to her, and finds it in herself to believe too.

They all end up in a little bar to let off steam and feel better; Kate watches the wives do some truly terrible and absolutely hilarious karaoke, Maz dragging Crooks in to join her. She stays out of it despite Lisa’s attempts at getting her to join in.

She can’t do Tainted Love, she can’t - not here, not now. She doesn’t plan to tell Lisa exactly why, but she follows Kate out of the bar and sits on the bench looking for all the world like she just wants to listen and won’t judge, and Kate finds herself giving Lisa her truths. Talking about Jamie, which never gets easier. But Lisa, listening quietly and respectfully, not doing any more than letting Kate know she’s not alone - it’s not as difficult to bear.

When she makes to leave, Lisa stops her with a hand on her arm, trying to look casual but not completely succeeding. “Do you want to come back to mine? Frankie’s at a friend’s for the night, and, well. Yeah.”

Ever since they started sleeping together Lisa’s been good at figuring out when Kate needs a release and tonight’s no different. Kate agrees with a quick smile, and Lisa’s nervous smile dissolves into a real one, a pleased one. “I was thinking I could try something new today.”

“Like what?”

Lisa gives her a wink that borders on dirty. “You’ll see when we get back.”

And oh, she does see, once they stumble into Lisa’s room; Kate thinks she isn’t surprised at how comfortable and in her element Lisa looks with a harness around her hips, seated in a chair, telling Kate to _come here._ She should probably be more embarrassed, more guilty, about the eagerness with which she finds her way into Lisa’s lap and the moans slipping past her lips, but Lisa’s clever fingers are undoing the buttons on her blouse and her mouth is hot against her throat, the line of her jaw. All her good sense seems to melt away whenever Lisa gets her hands on her, replaced by molten pleasure starting in her core and rising up. She sinks down on Lisa’s lap and lets herself adjust. “Good?” Lisa checks, makes sure Kate’s nodding before she starts to move. Her movements tell of practice, familiarity - every touch, every kiss, every minute thrust of her hips. She whispers in Kate’s ear, voice low and hungry in a way that makes Kate’s legs go inexplicably weak. “Does Richard fuck you like I do? Does he make you feel like this?”

Despite herself, Kate laughs, somewhere between breathless and delirious. “Wow. Is that how you dirty-talk all the other wives?”

Lisa doesn’t reply, which Kate takes to be an implicit _yes._ Her hand slides lower down Kate’s side, between her thighs - Kate feels it all the way up her spine, forcing a shuddering breath from her lungs. She feels - full and shaky and so, so close, so good, and she’ll never admit it to anyone, least of all Lisa herself, but if she had to give a truthful answer it would be _no._ It’s not just Richard - _nobody’s_ ever made her feel the way Lisa does, sparks behind her eyelids and almost sobbing whenever she makes Kate come. Pleasure flooding through every inch of her and pushing out every other thought or feeling for a glorious few seconds. She never thought she could feel like that - light, and free, like for one moment, the whole world stopped spinning on its axis.

Lisa always kisses her when she comes, mouth slanted over Kate’s and swallowing the helpless noises she makes. It helps keep things quieter. The less anyone can possibly hear the better, Kate knows. Her breath is ragged as she slowly comes down from her high and she feels the quiet rumble of Lisa’s laughter against her chest. Her hand runs up and down the knobs of Kate’s spine, fluid and soothing. “Feeling better?”

“I’m fine,” Kate grumbles; it doesn’t come out as sharp and final as she intended. Lisa just raises an eyebrow at her; she doesn’t stop stroking Kate’s back nor does she make any move to lever Kate off her lap, for which Kate is grateful. “It’s okay to be upset about the disaster that was this afternoon, you know. It’s not like I’m on cloud nine either.”

It should be strange, to discuss normal things like the choir in the afterglow, while Kate’s still shirtless and Lisa’s catching her breath, both of them knowing full well that in twenty minutes Kate’s going to be backfirst on her bed losing all her words to Lisa’s hands and mouth and strap and - it should be strange, but it feels more comforting than anything else. It feels… routine. Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise after all the nights they’ve spent together, Lisa always making Kate’s head spin. Always letting her worries and fears fade away at least just temporarily. She feels them resurfacing now, the ever-present gnaw of guilt that returns with a vengeance every time she thinks too long about what they’re doing. Kate doesn’t want to feel it, not when Lisa’s still right here in front of her, willing to give her what she needs for just yet another night. She kisses Lisa, insistent, and Lisa yields. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

“Mm, that’s fine,” Lisa murmurs, voice going pleased and sultry again. She hefts them both out of the chair, carrying Kate the few steps to her bed, legs still wrapped around her waist. Kate has a few moments to wonder how Lisa got to be that strong before she’s laying Kate out again, ready for another round. “We don’t need to talk at all.”

Four days after the performance in town, when her biggest worry is still maintaining the choir’s morale and ensuring they’ll still be in fighting shape when the Festival of Remembrance comes around, she gets Crooks’ call and the world turns upside down again.

She’s so angry with him. She’s so, so angry that he volunteered to go back to Afghanistan, that he didn’t bother to tell her, that he was willing to leave her in Flitcroft alone.

“I’m sorry,” Richard tells her, like that fixes anything at all. She opens her mouth to say something - shout at him, perhaps - and the thought just crosses her mind, _you left me alone; Lisa never did._ It’s horrible and shameful and a hundred percent true. Kate has spent months now calling on Lisa whenever she needed someone - a colleague or a friend or more - and not once has Lisa turned her down. Never.

She’s still choking on her fury when she gets in the car and takes Lisa’s call. She hears Lisa say that the choir doesn’t want to sing at the Festival of Remembrance any more, and it’s almost the final weight to push her over the edge. Every single thing in her life she’s sure of, or thought she was sure of, is sand shifting under her feet; she can’t handle the choir being yet another one. “If we pull out now, it will reflect badly on all of us!”

Lisa goes quiet on the other end of the line, just for a few moments. “Okay,” she finally replies. “I’ll try to talk to them. They’re just… about Sarah. And Liam and Richard.”

Kate forces a few deep breaths into her lungs, trying to calm herself down. Lisa’s being strong and calm for both of them right now and Kate really doesn’t want to be the arsehole here. “I know. I’m sorry. Thanks.”

Lisa’s voice goes even softer, her tone gentling. “Do you want me to come over tonight?”

“What?” Kate puts a hand over her face. “Lisa, Richard’s _home._ In the hospital, right here. My husband is back here.”

“Yeah, I know.” Lisa says slowly, impossibly understanding, patient, still questioning. “Do you want me to come over tonight?”

It’s been a really fucking long time since Kate’s been able to say no to Lisa. Even longer since she wanted to. Her heart hurts, her head even more; she knows it’s the wrong answer, and she’s pretty sure she’s coming closer and closer to the day this all blows up in her face. She holds the phone tighter to her ear, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles go white. “Yes.”

Helping Sarah with Liam’s service is harder than she expects. It reminds her too much of Jamie and it hurts. She doesn’t want to talk to Richard about it because she’s still angry with him; their visits in the hospital have been devoid of any real conversation. She doesn’t call Lisa and Lisa doesn’t push. They don’t see each other for a week or so, not until the service, but the choir sings beautifully in the church so Kate knows Lisa’s been holding them together so well while she hasn’t been there. Despite the tragedy of the occasion, it makes her feel proud. Just a little. She forgets sometimes that Lisa’s strong in ways Kate admires and envies. She’s always there when the women need her. Always doing her best to support them.

And maybe she also forgets Lisa needs support in her own ways - she rings Kate a few hours after the service ends, when Kate’s gotten home trying to shake off the grief of the day. “Do you want to come over? Just as a friend,” she quickly adds. “I just… it’s been the shittiest day.”

“It has,” Kate agrees. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. Not work, definitely. Maybe a movie. I just don’t feel like being alone.”

She goes, of course she goes. Lisa’s smile looks the same as ever when she invites Kate in but she’s quieter when they put on _Rocky,_ and when Kate looks closely she can see the dull shine in her eyes. It hasn’t been an easy day for any of them. Kate doesn’t know why she expected it to be different for Lisa. Seeing her sad and silent, nothing like her usual self, makes Kate feel uncomfortable; she doesn’t like it. Lisa’s been so good at helping her take her mind off everything, and Kate wonders, for the first time, if anyone’s been helping her do the same.

She doesn’t really know what else to do; their friendship, their relationship, whatever it is, has practically been built on this. She reaches over without much warning, cups Lisa’s face and brings her in for a kiss. Lisa responds; they stay like that for a few minutes, just kissing. She’s smiling when they eventually stop, which is already an improvement, in Kate’s opinion. “I thought you were just here as a friend tonight.”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” says Kate, omitting the reasons as to why. “Do you mind? Or is Rocky too engrossing to interrupt?”

Lisa snorts. There’s a growing heat in her eyes - familiar, chasing away the distracted, distant sadness. “Fuck Rocky,” she murmurs, straightening up, tilting her head towards her lap. “Come here.”

Richard is discharged two days after Liam’s service. The chilly atmosphere perpetually lingering between them at the hospital doesn’t improve when he gets home; it’s almost worse than being on her own.

Lisa doesn’t call on her for the next week, which makes sense. Obviously. Richard sleeps beside her now and that’s enough to stop Kate from reaching for her phone and a familiar number whenever she feels alone. It’s frustrating and horrible and lonely and Kate finds herself more irritable than she remembers being in months. She snaps at Richard, the smallest things setting her off. He doesn’t fight back; Kate knows it’s because he’s still mired in guilt, still believes Kate’s angry at him just because of his actions and not her own, believes he deserves it, and it just makes Kate more frustrated than ever.

She goes back to choir practice eventually even though she can’t find it in herself to actually _want_ to, but she’s been gone long enough and she doesn’t shirk her duties, especially not when the women have decided that they’re still on to sing at the Albert Hall. It’s probably not the greatest idea; the first thing she sees when she walks in is Lisa, looking unfairly gorgeous in cuffed shirt and bootcut jeans and making Kate’s stomach sink. She realises, suddenly, how much she’s missed Lisa in just the week they haven’t seen each other - like when she was helping Sarah with Liam’s service all over again, but worse this time, with her time occupied by nothing but settling Richard back home and her own thoughts.

It’s stupid and childish, to take the stresses of the past week out on Lisa and the choir, to say things to Lisa that she doesn’t mean. Lisa’d have every right to be pissed off at her - probably would be, in a different world where they didn’t get to know each other as well as they do now - but instead she takes Kate aside when practice is over and they’re finished with discussing this idea for an original song for the day. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Her expression is full of nothing but concern and confusion. “Why were you such a twat over the song? That’s not you, Kate, I _know_ you didn’t think it was a bad idea.” She hesitates, voice growing softer. “Is it Richard? Do you want to talk about it?”

She really, really doesn’t; Kate looks at Lisa and she doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to delve into all the complicated thoughts and feelings knocking about in her chest, doesn’t want any of it - she wants Lisa’s mouth on hers, stealing her breaths, fucking her until she forgets her own name. She kisses Lisa, and it feels like coming home to something she’s been missing. Lisa sighs and gently breaks the kiss, pulling back a few inches. “Kate, come on. If you need to talk about it - you can’t keep things bottled up.”

“I thought you had a pulse on what the women needed,” Kate retorts. “This is what I need, okay?”

Something passes over Lisa’s face, troubled, and for a second Kate thinks Lisa’s going to say no to her for the very first time. It’s a long moment before she sighs and shakes her head. “Fine. Not here. The bathroom, upstairs.”

After that she just… gives in. Spending all her time at home with Richard is unbearable, his guilt and her own weighing heavy on her shoulders, too much for her to bear alone. She starts going to Lisa’s place every single night in the weeks leading up to the Festival of Remembrance. She tells Richard it’s for the choir - that’s true, at least partly; there’s a lot to prepare. Lisa’s always hunched over her notes and photocopies of the women’s letters, trying out new chords on her keyboard. Kate makes calls, sends emails, arranging all the logistics, fighting fires that crop up, making sure everything’s exactly where it needs to be on 11 November. They work and work and work, until whichever point in the night Kate breaks and they end up in Lisa’s bed.

It’s always fast now, always frantic, the way they end every night together. Lisa touches her and goes down on her and fucks her and then sees her out. Always Lisa, and it’s two weeks before the Albert Hall that Kate finally realises it, can’t believe she didn’t notice before. It’s more evident now than it was when they first started sleeping together, those nights more spaced out - Lisa bringing her to some brilliant fucking orgasms, then leaving or sending her home. Never any reciprocation, never any give on Kate’s part for all her take. Lisa’s never said anything and it makes Kate wonder why.

She grabs Lisa’s hand, after, the night it clicks for her. Pulls her back down even as Lisa’s reaching for her clothes, kisses her own taste off Lisa’s lips, one arm around her waist. “Let me make you come.”

Lisa laughs into the kiss and shakes her head, handing Kate her jeans. “It’s fine. That’s not how this works.”

It feels like a punch to the gut - the rejection, and yet again the reminder that Lisa isn’t hers alone; she keeps forgetting, she doesn’t know why. She can taste the acid in her mouth as she takes her jeans but doesn’t put them on. “So you really go around, fucking all the wives, and they never repay the favour?”

Lisa’s smile fades; she stops where she’s bending to grab Kate’s shirt and turns back to give Kate a look. “It’s not a _favour,_ Kate. I thought that was always pretty clear. It’s… an agreement. An arrangement. It’s business.”

Lisa says _business_ and it feels like months ago, on Kate’s couch, Kate confronting her after that first night, Lisa talking about _stress relief_ and _just one night._ The sourness on her tongue feels like a blade and she lets it slip out in her words. “Business, huh? Should I just leave the money on your dresser then?”

“What the fuck, Kate,” Lisa snaps back. “I didn’t just give you an excellent orgasm for you to start getting pissy with me for not opening my legs for you, all right? Could you not fucking ruin the night? It’s late, just go home; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Kate mutters. Lisa still walks her to the front door, still gives her a really quick kiss before sending her off, which at least settles Kate’s stomach - a promise that tomorrow will come and she’ll still swing by to repeat their nightly routine - but she feels ill all the way back home.

_It’s business._

And Kate lies in bed and thinks - _it hasn’t ever been just business for me._

Maybe she’s just been stupid all this time. Making all the worst decisions and letting herself give her heart away to someone else even with a ring on her finger. She’s spent months - _months_ \- trusting Lisa with her friendship, her secrets, her body, her heart, despite the little voice in the back of her mind telling her to hit the brakes, and standing frozen by the coach with a sheet of lyrics in her hand, with Lisa talking about gaps and letters, this feels exactly like the endgame she’d always been fearing, deep, deep down.

Jamie’s words, stolen from her and put down to verse. A reminder of what she lost and what she’s choosing to give up with Richard. “I told you that in confidence,” she says, wavering, remembering the night outside the bar, and what happened after.

She calls the song a crass, sentimental ballad. She shouts at Lisa about losing sight of what’s really important because she can’t shout at herself about forgetting that, despite all her flowery justifications to herself, all she was doing was cheating for _months,_ especially with someone who’s now betrayed her. She looks at Lisa staring back at her, shocked, hurt, terrified, and everything in Kate screams _I loved you. I love you. You did this to me._

_It’s over._

“I don’t know why I ever believed you could be professional,” Kate snarls. The other wives are watching, and there are words brimming and brimming in Kate’s mouth like poison, words she knows she won’t be able to take back, just like that very first _yes_ she said to Lisa, but they spill out anyway. “Or be a good leader, or even a good person, when all you are is a crude, selfish, disloyal, untalented _slut!”_

It rings out into the air, cruel and biting, and Kate sees the moment Lisa’s expression shifts to total, utter heartbreak. A moment of vulnerability before she goes cold and still, nothing like Kate’s ever seen her. “You know what? Yeah, Kate, maybe I’m a bit of a slut,” she says, struggling to keep calm and failing. “But at least I’ve been fucking _trying_ to give the women what they really need, and _all_ you have been doing is forcing them to play along with your self-absorbed little Bach Choir ideal to serve your own fucking ambitions!”

She can see Helen and Maz exchanging panicked glances, Annie reaching out to try and stop Lisa, but Lisa just keeps going, voice getting louder. “You gave me all that bullshit about the women needing the choir, but really, Kate, _you_ needed it. _They_ needed this, they needed someone in their beds for just one night, and I’m sorry that makes you feel inferior.” There are tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, Kate can’t watch, her heart hurts, it hurts so badly. “They needed me. _You_ needed me, Kate. Why can’t you just fucking admit that? Just admit that _you_ wanted _me_ , you cold-hearted, uptight, hypocritical bitch!”

She can’t, she _can’t,_ not here, not in front of them, not even as her world is falling to pieces around her feet, not even though it’s nothing but true. Irrational, poisonous rage lingers in her throat, warping all her words, her thoughts. She wants to yell at Lisa about how it’s true that the choir was what she needed, that it wasn’t just for the wives’ benefit, but it’s pretty fucking true too that Lisa’s out there sleeping with them not for their comfort and relief but for her own. “How about you? Why can’t you admit - “

 _“Fine!”_ Lisa screams. “I needed you, Kate! I wanted you, I always did, I fucked up, but at least I can be honest, unlike you!”

Kate freezes. The world stops.

What?

_I needed you._

_I wanted you._

_I always did._

“Fuck this,” Lisa says, hoarse, going over to the baggage compartment of the coach for her bags. She’s stormed almost halfway down the street before Sarah slams into Kate’s side and almost shakes her. “Kate! What are you doing? Go after her!”

Kate stares at her, feeling very, very distant from her body, from the real world, from everything. “What?”

“Go after her before she disappears, _quickly,”_ Maz repeats. “If you let her go now you’ll never see her again.”

Never seeing Lisa again. Having her never speak to Kate again, not ever, never kissing her and hearing her laugh and leading the choir together and -

And -

Kate runs.

Lisa’s not hard to catch; she’s dragging her bags with her and her dress is still over her arm, making it cumbersome to walk. Kate stops her handily and stands right in front of her, blocking her way. “What do you mean you always wanted me?”

“Oh, fuck off, Kate, get out of my way,” she says, but Kate doesn’t move. “Lisa. _Please._ Did you mean it? Did you - “

“Yes!” Lisa shouts, nearly making Kate jump; it’s loud, anguished. “Yes, you oblivious, self-absorbed, selfish shit! I wanted you and I _hated_ that I wanted you and I hated that I had to work with you and pretend I didn’t. I knew you’d never feel the same way and it was so, so fucking stupid.” She inhales, shuddery and breaking on a sob. “And then you - when Frankie - I thought, just once, you know, just once, and I’d figure it out, and it’d be the end of it, and then it happened again, and again, and now I - “ Lisa laughs, humourless, looking away and fiercely wiping her eyes. “You know I haven’t slept with anyone else in over a _month?_ So much for your crude, selfish, disloyal, untalented slut.” It’s mocking but tremulous and Kate hates, hates, _hates_ herself, hates her impulses and her cruel words and her bad decisions but god, she doesn’t hate Lisa, she could never hate Lisa. “It was just you, Kate. Just you.”

The street is quiet. The day’s cold. Kate wants everything to just stop. She wants - so many things, some she can barely name, and amidst it all, above everything else, she wants Lisa.

“Come back,” she says. Her voice clear and strong, meaning every word she says. “Get on the coach with me. The choir needs you. _Our_ choir needs you, standing with them at the Albert Hall. And after that… we’ll figure it out.” Tears are blurring her eyes, her chest hurting; none of this is easy, none of it is going to be easy. “I’ll leave Richard if I have to. Leave the garrison. We’ll go to - Ireland? France? Or even further away, halfway around the globe, wherever you want. If we don’t have the money we’ll - rob a bank. I don’t know. Just come back. Stay with me.”

Lisa’s still angry, still crying, but there’s the beginnings of a light in her eyes. A familiar one. “Don’t bullshit with me, Kate.”

“I’m not. I need you,” Kate whispers. “I should have admitted it from the start. I should have - I needed you. I wanted you, I want - I love you.” _I love you. I do._

Lisa laughs. It’s shaky and teary but it’s real. “You’re a fucking idiot. Robbing a fucking bank, my arse,” she murmurs. She thrusts her dress into Kate’s arms, turns back around in the direction of the coach. “Help me carry that, it’s so heavy. And hurry up, or we’ll never reach London in time.”

Kate nearly collapses in relief, goes to Lisa’s side; Lisa surprises her with a fierce, lingering kiss. “Promise me,” she says, low and urgent. “Promise me it’s not just for a night. It’s not just business. You love me.”

Even despite everything they’re going to have to deal with. All the fallout. All the pain. Richard will hate her; so will Red, so will Frankie. She fucked up. They fucked up and they will have to live with that for the rest of their lives. Everything is going to change. Not all of it for the better.

And yet.

“Yes,” Kate answers. A _yes_ she can’t take back. A _yes_ she never wants to. “The answer will always be yes.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [loved and loved and lost you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722011) by [ensorcel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/pseuds/ensorcel)




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